


Heart of Gold

by seamonster



Series: Some Assembly Required [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gender-neutral Reader, Human Zenyatta, Other, Species Swap, a slow burn coming to a head, also children are about, idk it's just about love, omnic reader, so to speak, the slow burn was off camera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 11:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seamonster/pseuds/seamonster
Summary: It's a hard life when all you're trying to do is help people in a world so full of hatred and pain. Call it vigilantism or just downright foolishness. Either way, you've somehow managed to find a safe haven where you're always welcome. And, despite your differences, you find yourself falling for your kind savior.tl;drYou're the omnic, Zenyatta is the human.





	Heart of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> okay, I actually just also published this as the newest chapter of my collection of drabbles and requests, but i also wanted to publish it separately bc this tag is sadly neglected and that hurts my heart. zen if my favorite robot boyfriend and i want him to have more love, so here's this.

There weren’t a lot of things you were afraid of. Sometimes you even joked with yourself that fear got deleted with your voice. A lot of humans distrusted you, sure, but most of them hardly ever noticed you passing by. You liked it that way. It made a hard job easier and you could use all the easing you could find. Especially after jobs like the one you just finished.

Rain poured torrentially on the city, making the dark night that much harder to see through. Your thermal lenses were glitching again, too, so you made sure to keep your hood up and head down. At your side, a small hand tugged at your coat. The omnic child stared imploringly up at you from under the bill of the baseball cap you’d lifted back in London. You knew the group of human teenagers waiting on the other end of the bus station was making them uneasy, but they were just punks with loud clothing. So you pulled the child’s hood up over the cap and gently tugged them to stand on the other side of you, keeping a hand on their shoulder.

You weren’t actually waiting for a bus. You were carefully watching a light you could barely make out in the distance, far off into the slums of the city. It was red. Red meant wait. So you waited. You couldn’t explain this to the child, but it would make sense in time.

Thunder roared overhead, adding to the din of the rain pounding onto the roof of the station. A bus honked lightly as it approached.

While the teens were climbing aboard, the light in the distance turned green.

Where you’d been standing calm and casual before, you immediately took the child by the hand and hustled them out from under the station’s overhang, into the rain. You were almost running, but not quite, mindful of the child’s shorter legs. It was so dark, your thermal lenses barely blinking with traces of residual heat signatures, and the two of you almost ran right into the chain-link fence. A quick scan of the area showed no security guards or cops, so you crept quietly along the fence until you found the break, holding the chain apart while the child crawled through first. You swiftly followed, closing the break back behind you to look natural.

It was a sad sort of world you lived in that the slums of some cities were more desirable than the “right side of the tracks”. You slowed your hustle to little more than wanting to get out of the rain. Water was soaking through your coat, trickles dripping down your side and into exposed wiring. Your right arm twitched, going a bit numb to sensation, but you pressed on.

Somewhere in the heart of the slums, you found a light bulb glowing over a wooden door set into a brick building. The paint was peeling and a rat ran for different cover as you approached. You knocked once. Then three times in quick succession. Waited four seconds, then knocked twice. The child was clinging to your coat again, looking around with worry, but you tried to soothe them with a pat on the head.

Before long, you could hear locks sliding back before the door cracked open to reveal the small, grubby face of a human child. A girl. She lit up when she saw you and swung the door wide open.

“Lucky!! You came back! I’m, I’ll tell mister Nyatta!”

She ran off in excitement while you ushered the omnic child inside and tightly locked the door again. Once you felt it was secure, you kneeled and helped the child shed their wet coat and hat. With a slight tilt to your head, you brought your hands into fists and placed one wrist over the other, then separated them in a sweeping outward motion.

It was safe here.

The child nodded, repeating the motion, even though you knew they could talk themself. They seemed to be picking up a preference for not speaking if you couldn’t. It was cute.

“Ah, so it is as Nettie said. You have returned.”

The child shyly hid behind you at the voice of a newcomer, and you wished  _ you _ had someone to shyly hide behind. Instead, you stood up straight and turned to greet him.

You met Tekartha Zenyatta years ago. He was brother to the omnic rights activist Tekartha Mondatta and Zenyatta did plenty as an activist himself. Until “fate” led him to this city, to help children both human and omnic. Well, he helped everyone, really. If you needed aid, Zenyatta’s was a safe place. He was both wise and incredibly kind, and he always welcomed you through that door.

“Welcome back.” He smiled at you, soft and sweet. All humans could smile, but Zenyatta’s could warm the soul with its brilliance. It didn't matter how long you were away, it never lost its shine. A few ports on your back popped open under your coat, expelling faint traces of steam. You're pretty sure he didn't notice, he was too busy looking you over, a sudden tick of worry cutting through his delight in seeing you again.

“I do hope your journey led you out of harm’s way this time... Oh? And who is this?”

You were halfway through gesturing to him in reassurance. Hm? Oh! The kid.

It took some coaxing to get the child around you to meet the kind human in round spectacles. They told Zenyatta their name, explaining what had happened back in England… to their family. Ever full of empathy, Zenyatta was quick to ease the child’s troubled nerves with the pure tranquility of his aura. You never understood how he could do that so easily, you couldn’t even make conversation with people. It was a wonder the kid had trusted you at all. 

When you felt confident the kid was going to be okay with their new caregiver, you excused yourself from the rowdiness of a dozen children getting ready for bed. The journey back had been a long and stressful one, you weren’t used to carrying such precious cargo. Zenyatta typically let you use a small room off of his workshop upstairs, and you were glad to shuck your wet clothing in favor of something dry. You had to be careful of your side as you removed your shirt, though. Of course, just as you were gingerly lifting it, your arm twitched out again and wet fibers got caught on torn metal, ripping holes in the cotton.  _ Shoot _ , that wasn't even your shirt. You just kinda yanked it off after that.

The part of you that wanted to start fixing the damage right away was out-weighed by how worn down in energy you were. You'd been going mostly non-stop for several days. That wasn’t altogether unusual for you, but you  _ needed _ to slow down and let yourself reboot some.

So you collapsed into the cot without changing, careful of your damaged side. Just a short rest. No more.

 

Humming was the first thing you heard as your processors booted back up in repair mode. It was soft, melodic, and so soothing. It was also familiar. As familiar as the fingers you could feel carefully sorting through and replacing wires in your side. How long had you been out? The humming paused.

“Have you awoken?”

A sparking tingle worked its way through your wiring, all down your arm. Not bringing numbness this time, but full feeling.

Your visual lenses booted back up last; letting you see the man, who was seated on a stool next to the cot with a tray of precision tools in his lap as he worked. You gave him a single nod.

“I was really hoping to find you up here with everything intact this time.”

You tilted your head down a touch. He always had such a kind way of scolding your recklessness. While still managing to make you feel bad. You couldn't fathom why Zenyatta cared about you so much, but he did this every time you stumbled back through his door, broken and glitching. For years, now, the two of you had carried on like this.

It would be a falsehood to claim that your feelings towards the former monk were purely platonic. Which embarrassed you on some level. Romantic relationships between human and omnic were still… taboo, in acceptable society. Unacceptable society felt much the same still, tragically. Both of which meant nothing to you, especially if Zenyatta didn't feel the same way back.

“May I borrow a few fingers?” He asked in that soft tone of voice that always made you weak in the knee joints. You let him guide two of your fingers to hold something in place while he soldered. 

You were both hopeful and hesitant to guess his feelings towards you. Just because you never ran into others during your visits, didn't mean you were the only wannabe vigilante who sought asylum with Zenyatta. The only one he patched up on such a regular basis. The thought alone made a cold tingle lace through your circuitry, which was ridiculous of you. Zenyatta used to be a monk; he was a helpful, giving soul. There was no reason to be jealous of him giving such attention to others. He wasn't yours to be jealous of.

You didn't think.

...You wanted him to be.

“That was a very kind thing you did, bringing that child all the way here. You could have left them with the local authorities.”

You were shaking your head before he even finished. Not in London. An omnic child in the foster care system? They’d be snatched up for omnic trafficking faster than a bullet flies. Zenyatta gave you a smile so full of warmth that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Still a hero, I see.” He said it softly, only adding to your embarrassment. 

“Alright, I believe that's all I can do for now.”

Zenyatta set his tools aside. His touch lingered over two deeply gouged lines in the metal of your side, a sad tilt to his eyebrows. He sighed.

“I don't have enough soldering wire left to fix these, I'm afraid.”

Carefully, you raised a hand to cover his, drawing his attention to your faceplate instead. Your free hand touched your chin lightly, gesturing out and downward in thanks. He sighed again, this time with a faint smile. Fingers laced themselves together with yours, not minding your mechanical joints. 

“You're welcome, as always.”

His gaze on you was so fond that you tingled all over. Again hit with a painful hope that Zen felt  _ something _ towards you. You weren't sure what would ever come of it, but… it could be nice. To have someone.

After a few minutes of simply taking in each other’s presence, he seemed to pull himself out of a reverie. Face flushing a faint, but lovely, pink. He quickly stood with his tools, turning away to return them to his work table while he spoke. You missed the warmth of his hand immediately.

“Your clothes are being laundered by Nettie. Although the shirt might not be salvageable.” There was faint laughter in his tone, like it amused him that you'd ruined yet another of his shirts to bullet holes and tears from your own body. He whirled back around, smiling again with a folded shirt in his hands. “I brought up another for you.” 

Zenyatta looked a little  _ too _ pleased. What was the expression? Like the cat that caught the canary? He quickly made his way back over to you, snapping the shirt out of its fold and holding it up for you to see. It was probably some shade of red once, now it was faded into a blood orange color. The front held white words printed on it with the drawn outline of a lotus flower underneath.

_ Namasté In Bed _

Where the hell did he even find all these vintage shirts? His grin was bright as you took it to pull it on.

“It’s perfect on you.” He said that every time. You must have conveyed a dry enough expression bc he laughed again. “It is perfect in irony. Since you  _ never _ stay in bed for very long.”

You concede with a shrug. It was true. And honestly, if Zenyatta liked it, you’d wear it regardless of what it said.

You got up from the cot so Zen could check the fit for himself, like always, smoothing the time-worn cotton over your shoulders. He had the softest look on his face. Your fingers twitched to pull him into an embrace, he was  _ right there _ . It wouldn't take much.

“Something on your mind?”

Huh?

Zenyatta was looking at you with a curious expression, still standing incredibly close, hands sliding slowly down your arms. There was something so open about his dark eyes that sucked you in, made you feel…

Tentatively, your fingers barely touched his waist in a light graze. He looked neither surprised nor offended. In fact, he shifted just a little bit closer.

“Lucky?”

It felt like your processors slowed for a fraction of a moment. Those beautiful hands moved to your chest, encouragement in his demeanor. Did Zenyatta really… want you too? 

He was so warm when you finally broke and gathered him up in your arms, pressing your forehead to his, his glasses tinking against your face. Of course he melted against you right away, arms tossed over your shoulders. Why wouldn't he? He'd waited over a year for you to make any kind of move towards what he knew you both wanted.

Zen released a happy sigh this time, almost sagging against you in relief. You held him easily, it wasn't as though he weighed much. All the years you'd known each other and this was your first embrace. You wanted to squeeze him tighter, smoosh him to your body, but he was made of such delicate flesh. You did not wish to hurt him, but you also had no intentions of letting him go now. Not until you absolutely had to.

“Mister Nyatta!” Which was a lot sooner than you would have liked. “Santi’s putting his feet in the potty again!”

Nettie's voice carried easily from downstairs and Zenyatta cracked a wider smile, taking your face into both of his hands.

“I should attend to that.” 

Without any hesitancy, he leaned right in and kissed you. Like it was just a natural thing for the two of you. His lips were warm against your face, lingering for a moment. You tightened your hold just a fraction, leaning into the touch. Zenyatta made a small sound when you did, a sound you'd never heard from him before, like the softest whimper.

He was almost breathless when you pulled apart, face pink again. He didn't want to walk away from you right now, but the children were beginning to make a small commotion and it was passed their collective bedtime. 

So he sighed with a small smile, leaning up to give you another giddy peck of a kiss.

“You should get some more rest. I'll come back up after I get the kids to sleep.”

You started to shake your head. You could help him with the kids, most of them knew and liked you at this point. But Zenyatta gently stilled your head with his hands, a dreamy expression on his face.

“Please, for me? You truly don't get enough rest, my dear.” Steam was building up at your ports again as he glanced down at your shirt then back up again. “Namasté in bed?”

Obviously, you couldn't say no. Not to that. With a light squeak in one of your sternocleidomastoid pistons, you nodded. Zen made sure you were comfortable on the cot again, kissing your head before he departed.

“Hopefully, this won't take long. I'll be back up to join you soon.”

You gave him another nod, letting your limbs go loose and relaxed. Zenyatta smiled at you all the way to the door, giving up a small wave before he slipped downstairs.

You encouraged your mind to slow down, looking for rest you seldom allowed yourself.

Wait…

Join you?

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @seamobeemo


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